


Above It All

by ABitchDoesNotADomMake



Category: Daredevil (TV), MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, So I had this idea..., What if Hawkeye is a title not a name
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5171870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABitchDoesNotADomMake/pseuds/ABitchDoesNotADomMake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Hawkeye was a title, a job description, a calling... Not a name for a specific person or persons?  What if being a Hawkeye meant finding the one you are supposed to watch?  What if the watched doesn't want a watcher?  What if you aren't taking no for an answer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter by chapter this will take me somewhere. Hopefully you want to come along for the ride.

Chapter 1: Introductions

 

Watching him sit takes a measure of patience. His stillness, and the ever-present slightly off-focus tilt of his head make him just the tiniest bit uncomfortable to the average viewer. The patience comes in handy when you watch longer than the average casual observer might, however. You can begin to see that the stillness is more the pause of a stalking cat, all compressed energy waiting for release, lithe muscles bunched and ready to pounce. The off-center non-gaze is actually him angling his head to better hear whatever he is focused on. Which at the moment, appears to be you.

You lift your coffee and clear your throat, whispering softly before you take a sip. “You should just come here and sit down, instead of pretending not to be paying attention to me.” Across the room you see a blush rise up his cheeks, coughing as he chokes on the sip of coffee he had taken just as you started to whisper. You smile to yourself, knowing he can hear you, hear the somewhat more rapid than normal beating of your heart. You know more about this man than anyone, most likely. Certainly more than the average denizen of Hell’s Kitchen. He is the darling of every waitress and coffee counter clerk in the borough, the kind of lost puppy who always finds an extra pastry in the bottom of his take-out bag. You watch as he stands, smoothly, swiftly; unfolding his cane and moving towards the door. He pauses, turning halfway back, and looks directly above your head. From across the room you grin as he raises one scarred eyebrow over the rim of his glasses, cheeks still red with his blush. He turns and pushes the door open and steps out into the street.

***

Watching the sun set from 18 stories above the city was, as always, a breathtaking experience. Looking out towards the Hudson, the orange glow reflecting off windows and water, there is a peaceful, Pissarro-esque haziness to the early evening hours. The softness of the light feels lush, lazy, calm… no hint of the harsh shadows and lines that will make up Hell’s Kitchen after the final moments of dusk. Shifting position on the rampart of the roof, you look down on the roof of the apartment building across the street. The attorney had left his office over an hour ago, stopped at the church, and then headed towards his home. It was maybe a half hour until full darkness, so you settle in to wait, enjoying the height and the fading light. Pulling on your gloves, you take a soft cloth from your pocket and slowly begin to polish the steel rods tucked into your vambraces. The last rays of the sun glint off the smooth black metal, flashing onto your face for a moment. You smile as you polish the last traces of oil and fingerprints from the surface of each piece, sliding them silently, one by one, back into the sleeves along the insides of your wrists. 

A subtle movement in the shadows below you draws your attention. From the corner of your eye you watch as he steps lightly from the shadow around the door towards the edge of the roof. Using just your fingertips, you slip the last of the shuriken into its sleeve, holding yourself still and keeping your breathing calm and slow. From here the suit looks black, but you know that not all of it is. The dark red is hard to see in the lurking twilight, and will be even harder to discern once the last vestiges of light have fled. Like your own dark grey Kevlar, the suit is meant to both hide him and to terrify those who get to see it up close. A good suit protects you in so many more ways than the purely physical. You watch him as he stands on the ledge of his roof, shadows from taller buildings masking his presence. You watch as he listens, standing motionless except for the sharp movements as he turns his head to focus on distant sounds that you can only imagine. You mimic him, turning your head to follow his, trying to hear what he hears, but all you can make out is traffic, an occasional far off siren, a dog barking somewhere nearby, and the muffled buzz of dozens of televisions playing a cacophony of programs. Superior hearing is not a gift you possess, however, and so you return to simply watching him. You can pinpoint the moment he notices you… his head stops moving, his body angles in your direction, his fists clench, and the entire world seems to go silent.

You take a deep breath, and with a tiny shake of your head, you whisper “Hello again, Mr. Murdock.”


	2. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we meet... On a roof, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize. I suffered from massive, total laptop death, and lost all the work on this that I had done. In addition to a lot of work on my Master's degree, which took precedence in reconstruction. Forgive me? We are back now.

 

Chapter 2:  Falling

Murdock, no _Daredevil_ , steps back from the ledge, turned fully now towards you.  He tilts his head to one side, and then, swiftly runs and leaps from the side of the building.  You sit, not moving, just waiting.  The sound of him catching the fire escape below you is loud to your ears, but you know that is more your attention to it than fact.  The sounds of passing cars would have muffled it from passers-by, the darkness of the alley would not have been inviting to casual observers.  You wait as he climbs, silently now, holding still and breathing deeply, slowly, trying to keep your heart rate somewhere near normal.  You have a perfect view when he comes over the rampart a few yards away from you, the last bit of free climbing from the top of the fire escape having winded him just a little.  You can’t hear him panting, but you see his shoulders move rapidly as he catches his breath.  He holds his position, but seems unsurprised that you are still sitting here.  In the few moments that have passed since his jump and ascent, you suppose that you could have tried to run, but he would have caught up with you maybe a flight or two down the stairs.  Besides, you set this meeting up.  Why would you run? 

“You have me at a disadvantage.” His voice was low, gravelly, almost monotone.  You could see where that voice, coming from behind you in the dark, could stop you in your tracks and put you on the defensive.  Particularly if you had a guilty conscience and were up to no good.  Since neither applied to you, you sat still and waited.  Words were like weapons, and you chose yours carefully, and waited until the moment they would have the most impact.  You let the silence drag on until Daredevil shifted, uncomfortable, perhaps; although his body language was difficult to read.  “Your name would be a good place to start.”  If you didn’t already know he was blind the covered eyes might be unnerving.  The last of the light had faded, and in the false light of the sodium security lamps at the far end of the roof, mostly burned out and neglected, the red parts of his suit looked like blood, dried blood painted across black leather.  This suit was far more form-fitting than his daytime suits, which although nice, gave no real clue to the body underneath.  His fitness was not in question by night. 

“Perhaps you should have a seat, Mr. Murdock” you say quietly.  For a moment it looks as though he is going to ignore you, but he takes a seat a little closer to you.  You let the silence stretch out a while longer, studying him, as you are sure he is studying you.  His chin lifts, and his head turns more fully towards you in a quick jerk.  Now, then.  “I see you remember me from the coffee shop.  Good.  I hate having frank discussions with total strangers, and I am sure you do as well.”

“The coffee shop… and it seems I recognize you from my nights out, as well.  You seem familiar, at least.”

“I’ve been watching you for a while now, yes.  From a safe distance.  I wouldn’t have wanted to be mistaken for a part of your “nights out”, as you call them.”  You keep your voice low, your breathing even.  “You can call me Hawkeye.”

“No offense, Miss, but I am pretty sure you are not an Avenger.  Or a man.”

“Hawkeye is a job, not a name.  He is just the most famous Hawkeye.  The only one of us dumb enough to have his name and picture in the papers.  No, I am not Clint Barton, but I am every bit as good as he is.  We all are.”

“All.  So there is, what, an army of Hawkeyes out there?”

“Not nearly enough of us to be an army, no.  But enough of us to do what we are trained to do.”

“And that would be what?”  He looked more tense than he had a moment before.  He looked as though he was about to either fight or flee, neither of which was going to help you right now.  Best to come straight out with it, you suppose.

“Watch and protect.  You need protection, Mr. Murdock.  You get hurt far too often; you go out on your own, no back-up, and one of these days it will kill you.  I’m here to watch your back.”

He stood up.  “No thank you.”  He started to walk back to the edge where he came onto the roof.  “I don’t need a partner or a sidekick or whatever you think you are.  I do just fine on my own.”

“It wasn’t an offer, Murdock.  It was a statement.  I am here to protect you while you protect “your city”.  This is what I do, and you are who I have chosen.  That’s how it works for us.  We choose the ones we protect.  Even if they don’t think they need protecting.”

“No.  Go choose someone else.  I don’t want or need your help.”  With that, he jumped down off the rooftop you shared and clambered back down the fire escape.  With a sigh you stood up, waiting to hear his feet hit the pavement in the alley before heading down the stairs.  Following him wasn’t that hard, but you were pretty sure he was going to be looking for you, so to speak, so best to give him some time.  You wandered back to the roof entrance and headed down the stairs and out into the night.

 

 


	3. On The Docks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a little demonstration will convince him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short this one is...

 

Chapter Three: On the Docks

 

     You caught up with him at the docks near West 44th, the streetlights mostly broken, the rats bold in the garbage cans.  You stayed back in the shadows, just watching and waiting.  Matt is perched on top of a shipping container, watching a group of men who are talking in the dark.  You can see which ones are armed by the way they are holding themselves, hands close to pockets or coats.  You figure at least 4 guns over in that group, if not more.  You silently loosen the fasteners on your wrist sheaths, feeling for the sharp tips of your shurikens with the tips of your fingers.  You start forward, sliding through the shadows like smoke, creeping up to where you might be able to hear what’s going on.  You can tell the precise moment when Murdock figures out that you are there, his head swiveling to face you, his posture stiffening momentarily.  You freeze, not wanting to distract him.  You are almost in throwing range anyway, so staying put isn’t such a bad idea.

     The small gathering of men up ahead is getting a little louder, and a few of them are getting fidgety, hands sliding ever closer to their concealed weapons.  You see Matt out of the corner of your eye, moving slowly closer to the edge of his perch.  Your focus now, though, is on the group of men.  You have seen plenty of people preparing for violence before, you know what it looks like.  It looks just like this.  One man starts to edge away from the others, heading closer to the street, and to you.  Suddenly there are 4 guns trained on him, and he freezes as Daredevil springs into action, leaping from the top of the container to take out one gunman with a kick to the head as he lands on top of another, knocking him to the ground.  Without thought you move, your weapons slide into your hands and you let fly, impaling one gunman through the forearm, his gun dropping to the ground.  Your second projectile flies almost as swiftly as the first, taking the fourth gunman in the shoulder and screwing up his aim so his shot flies of without hitting a mark.  Daredevil is a whirlwind of fists and feet, making sure the four gunmen stay down weapons kicked out of easy reach, before turning and catching the fifth by his collar as he turns to flee.  You walk forward slowly, eyes on the downed gunmen.  With a swift kick to the head of each of your targets, you retrieve your shurikens, sliding them into a thigh pocket for cleaning later, and for good measure you step on the forearm wound of your first target. 

     Pulling a handful of industrial zip ties from another hidden pocket, you bind each of the gunmen’s hands behind their backs, checking them for more guns and knives as you go, one eye on Daredevil as he not too gently questions the fifth man.  You kick all the guns over the side of the dock, listening to each splash with a sense of satisfaction.  After a few minutes, Daredevil finally drops the man he has been questioning, letting him slump to the ground.  He cocks his head to one side, in his now familiar listening pose. 

     “You should go” he growls at you.  “You have about 4 minutes until the police show up.” 

     “Got it” you reply, turning and sliding back into the shadows as you head up the riverfront, back towards the end of Hell’s Kitchen where you started your night.  It will be a bit of a wait before he comes back to his rooftop.  He wasn’t injured tonight, so he will likely head out for more patrolling.  Which is fine.  It’s still early, and a little take-out and a cup of coffee while you wait sound just about perfect.


	4. Chapter 4: The Dance of Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up on the roof... again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished my research paper and immediately sat down and pounded out a chapter. Because I am mental like that.

 

Chapter 4:

The Dance of Denial

 

         Back on the rooftop of the building across from Murdock’s apartment you settle in along the roofs edge, coffee and a take-out box of noodles and vegetables in front of you; your bloodied weapons in your hands as you polish them clean one by one.  The neighborhood is quiet, the illumination from the billboard across the street keeping the immediate area clear of most criminal elements.  If anyone ever bothered to look up, they might be able to see you, but even with a vigilante known for dropping down from above on the loose, no one does.  You lay down your polished spikes, waiting to oil them until after you eat.  Gun oil tastes nasty.  You dig into your lo mein, wishing momentarily for some beef or chicken in there, but cheap food means cheap meat, and getting sick while on the job is never a good idea.  You peer across to Matts rooftop as you eat, looking more closely at the various jumping off points you have seen him use.  The buildings are pretty close together on that side of the street, easy enough even for you to jump, but it’s the difference in height that you are really interested in.  Down doesn’t look too bad, but the buildings that are taller, that involve some kind of a climb, are more challenging.  If you are going to protect him, you need to keep up with him, and parkour was never a part of your training.  You sigh softly, knowing how you will be filling at least some of your daylight hours from now on.  You make a mental note to look up a gym with a good rock wall tomorrow.

       Just about the time you are stuffing your trash back into the bag you carried it up here in and pulling the tiny vial of gun oil out of its pocket in you braces, you hear the faintest scuff of a boot on concrete and you look to see Daredevil coming up over the roof edge a few yards away from you.  You watch as he walks towards you, stopping a few feet from you and sliding down to lean against the short wall you are sitting on.  A few moments of heavy silence pass, and you pull a soft cloth out and open the oil, willing to wait for him to speak first.  His head is tilted to the side, facing you as he listens to your quiet activity.  You polish and store the two shuriken, just as you would if you had been alone. 

       “You could have been shot” he states finally.

       “So could you” you reply.  “As a matter of fact, you HAVE been shot before.  I never have.  I got my arm broken once, and my collar bone another time, but I am good.  I don’t get hit, generally speaking.”

       “How do you know I’ve been shot?”

       “I didn’t choose you on a whim, you know.  I’ve been watching you for almost a year.  That shit with Castle?  I was watching you until your friend showed up, making sure that the cops didn’t search that roof.  After I made sure you were breathing, I mean.”  You sat quietly for a moment, trying to put your words into an order he might understand.  “I’m good, and I’m smart, Murdock.  I don’t go up against guys with automatics by myself.  If you had known I was there, maybe there would have been something I could do, but attacking Castle, with you not knowing who I was would basically have meant I was fighting two guys.  I’m not stupid.”

       Murdock turned his head, listening to something passing below you, probably.  Or thinking about what you said, maybe.  Although really, you weren’t hoping for that, given what you knew of how stubborn he could be.

       “I didn’t hear you up on that roof.”

       “You were a little preoccupied.”

       “I’ve never noticed you until the past week or so.”

       “I never got close enough for you to pick me out of a crowd.”

       “Why now?”

       “Because you almost died.  Because I chose.”

       “Choose someone else.  I don’t need or want a sidekick.”

       You chuckled darkly for a moment.  “Sidekick is not an option, Murdock.  Not how I work.  And I am not asking.  I told you already, I will protect you.  It is happening.  You just go ahead and do what you do.  I’ll be around, somewhere, watching your back.  That’s all there is to it.”

       “Don’t follow me.”

       “What exactly are you going to do about it?  Sue me for stalking you?  You don’t even have a legal partner anymore, or an office.  As far as I can tell you have nothing left but the suit and a mission, and you are going to get yourself killed.  Except I’m going to keep that from happening.”

       “Leave. Me. Alone.” He growled and angled his body towards you, in a way that might frighten some people, but you are not worried.

       “Nope” you said, popping the P just a little bit.  “I’m going to do my job; the same way you are going to do yours.”

       “I don’t want your help.  Why can’t you get that?  I don’t NEED your help.”  He stood, starting to walk away from you.

       “What are you afraid of, Matt?” you asked quietly.  “Are you afraid that I’ll steal your glory?  Cramp your style?  Keep you alive?”

       Matt kept walking towards the fire escape that was just out of sight below the buildings edge, making no reply.  He stepped smoothly onto the edge, turning his head towards you just before he leapt down to the fire escape.  “I don’t need watching.”


	5. The Dance of Denial Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning...

 

Chapter 5:

The Dance of Denial

Part 2

 

Saturday morning was bright and beautiful.  You stretched in bed, contemplating rolling over for another hour or so, but got up, knowing that you needed to take care of all your own business before dark.  A quick breakfast and short shower and you were out the door, planning to take a look at a couple of local gyms.  It was early, so the streets were relatively empty, only the shop owners and the weekend runners out and about with you.  Rounding the corner, you pass the Catholic church, its baskets of geraniums blooming cheerfully, its bench empty in the early morning light. You had seen Murdock sit there many times, not going into the church, just sitting outside.  Sometimes the priest would come out and sit with him, but not always.  It was just one of the places he went in his daytime life.  You wondered just how much the priest knew about Matts nighttime activities, but you didn’t really see how you could find out, and it didn’t really matter, in the end.  You let the idea go and kept walking.

After a couple of hours and several different gyms, you had found the place you wanted.  The rock wall was two stories, with several different difficulties built into it, and a large number of hand and foot holds that were high enough and far apart enough to really challenge your jumping skills.  You felt you were off to a good start in terms of upping your skills in the jumping around on roofs department, although you were probably going to have to find someone to really give you some parkour training, as well.  You decided to treat yourself to some coffee on your way back through the neighborhood, so you stopped into the same coffee shop where you had seen Murdock the day before.  Stepping up to the counter you caught a glimpse of deep auburn hair out of the corner of your eye, and grinned to yourself.  Time to be a pest.  You took your coffee and walked across the room, sliding onto the stool across from Murdock at the tiny bar-height table.

“Morning stranger” you said softly as you pulled the lid from your coffee to let it cool a little bit.  “You look well rested for a change.”  Matt shifted on his stool, turning his face towards you, chin tilted upwards so his gaze went over your shoulder.  You sipped at your coffee as you watched him tense up, his lips a hard line, his nose wrinkled as though he smelled something other than the fragrant coffee on the table.

“Why are you following me?”  His voice was so quiet you could barely hear him, but the anger was clear.

“Wasn’t following you this morning.  Just came in for a cup of coffee and here you were.  Thought I would come say hi is all.  Plus, it is a little crowded in here this morning.  Not too many places to take a seat.”

“You passed at least three empty seats, if you were willing to sit down with a total stranger.  Which you obviously are, since you are here.  We aren’t friends.  There is _no reason_ for you to sit down with me.”

“Friends?  No, you don’t do friends, do you?” You held your coffee cup up to your lips, blowing across the steaming surface as you watched his cheeks turn a light pink.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked, his tone sharp, but still low.  Not _quite_ Daredevil voice, but not far off.

“You said something once.  ‘No more law – no more friends.’  Or something to that effect.  To your nurse not-friend.  Just before the ninja takeover at Metro General.  So, yeah.  You don’t do friends.”  You stood up as he stood up, unfolding his cane quickly.  You held out your arm and said softly “If you were about to storm off, there are enough people in here that you are gonna have to do a really good blind guy impression.  Walk out with me, because I am going to keep talking, and I figure you can probably hear me even if I am a half a block behind you.  So running off in broad daylight like you can see just to get away from me isn’t gonna go over really well.”  You touched your forearm to his elbow lightly, waiting for him to take hold of you.  He stood stiff and still for a long moment before resting his hand just above your elbow.  You smiled to yourself as you led him through the crowded coffee house, careful not to spill your drink as you went.

Outside in the early spring sunshine, you walked slowly up the street, headed back towards the church on the way back towards his building.  Matt spoke quietly, facing forward and barely using his cane even as a prop.  “You were there, at the hospital.” He stated, not questioning how you knew what he had said to Claire. 

“Yes.  You weren’t paying much attention to anything around you but the nurse and your friend downstairs.  That’s part of the problem here, Murdock.  You get tunnel vision, pay attention to what you think you should be listening to, and you miss other stuff going on around you.  You have gotten really careless.  You used to have a wider net in terms of what you were listening to, a better idea of what was going on around you.  If you had been more like that last fall and winter, I might have moved on.  But you need someone to watch your back.”

“I don’t need someone to watch my back.  I don’t _want_ someone to watch my back.  I don’t want anyone involved in what I am doing.  Last night, you could have been killed, just because you followed me out into the night.  I don’t want that, and I don’t care how good you think you are.  Just being around me is enough to get you killed.”

“I doubt that, and even if it were true, Murdock, it’s my choice.  I trained a long time to do this, and I am not going to walk away now.  You don’t have to like it, you don’t have to acknowledge me at all, but I am gonna be there, every time you go out.  I know my weaknesses, I know where I need work, and having you help me would be great, having you trust me would be great, but I can do my job regardless.”

“Are you this stubborn about everything?” He sounded more exasperated than angry now.  You hoped that was a good sign.  And really? 

“Look who’s talking” you laughed.  “You pretty much have no room to talk about people being stubborn, Murdock.  You are kind of the poster boy for stubborn, as far as I can tell.”  You slow down as you come to the bench outside the church, knowing that he knows where you are.  “Can we sit down for a minute, Murdock?  I want to ask you a serious question.”  He hesitates before waving his hand at the bench.

You take a minute to gather your thoughts as you both settle in, the shade from the budding trees giving a slight chill to the air.  Matt sits as far from you as possible on the bench, looking as though he wants to bolt, but he stays put, his face angled towards you.

You start to speak slowly, giving each word as much weight as you can. “What can I say to you, what can I do, to convince you that I am not a threat to you or your work, Murdock?”  You exhale heavily, waiting for a response.

“I don’t know you.  I don’t trust you.  I am not sure that there is anything you can say that would evoke the response you are looking for.  I don’t even know your name.  I know nothing about your skills, your job, as you call it.  For all I know you are another Castle, or Fisk, or worse yet, a woman who thinks she knows more than she does who is going to be a liability, or be my downfall.  When you kill someone trying to protect me, that death will be on my soul, and my record in the eyes of everyone who watches what I do.  I can’t, won’t, risk that.”

You remain silent for a few moments, thinking about what he said.  His points are… not unreasonable, and for a moment you wish you could rewrite your beginnings.  Instead, you extend your hand to him and say “Hi.  My name is Macey.  Macey McLaren.  And perhaps there is nothing I can say to convince you, but perhaps I could show you.”  Matt tilted his head in question.  “Would you like to come to my studio for a little demonstration of what I can do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know the name of Father Lantom's church? For real, it is driving me crazy. I know that many of us headcannon that Matt was at St. Agnes' orphanage (With Skye/Daisy Johnson), but this is not that... I swear I'm gonna call it St. WhyTheFuckAmIObsessingOnThis......


End file.
